


Worthy

by Destina



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Thundershield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8753539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: Even the strongest weapons can be broken, if not properly cared for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First posted MCU fic, yay! (Probably not the last.) And first story posted in nearly a year, wow. Many thanks to hafital for her fantastic beta!

"Steve." Natasha's voice crackled over comms. "There's another pod of them coming your way, maybe two dozen."

"On it." Steve turned and ran back in the direction he'd come, down 44th Street until the sun glinting off metal told him he was in the right area. The little robots weren't sentient, but they were powerful and under the control of something - or someone - determined to win this battle. And they kept coming. They'd been fighting for what seemed like hours, and they were without some of their best fighters. Sam was in Oregon handling a smaller issue there, and Vision was in Wales. 

Meanwhile, their overpaid tech support was pointedly not cursing on comms, probably to get a rise out of Steve. Some things just never died a natural death. "If I could just get this dad-gum frequency to line up with the gosh-darn - Friday, is it Tuesday, am I asleep? Because even in my nightmares, it doesn't take me this long to isolate and jam a gol-durned frequency."

"You're not dreaming, boss, but you're a tad slow today. Maybe because there's something wrong with your vocabulary." 

Friday's sass made Steve grin as he threw the shield and neatly severed the heads of at least two robots. He threw himself into the middle, swinging the shield in messy arcs, decapitating and eliminating what he could. "Tony, can you clear up these comms? There's a lot of static." 

"Working on it." 

They might have been winning, but they could just as easily be losing -- it was hard to tell. Steve's body felt like an unraveled muscle, without power and sore to the deepest parts of him. He was bruised everywhere, pretty certain he had six or seven broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung - the wheezing was familiar from his long-ago Brooklyn days - and a snapped tendon which was torturing him with its attempts to heal, while he continued undoing the serum's best work. He was starting to slow down, too, which was alarming, but he kept going. There was nothing else he could do. 

"The hell with this," Tony said suddenly on comms. "I'm suiting up." There was a clanging noise, and then Tony said, "I'm on my - whoa." 

A body dropped out of the sky directly in front of Steve, and when Thor impacted with the ground, Steve stopped to regain his balance. It was always impressive, but this time Steve's whole body flooded with surprised relief. Thor had been gone for months, off planet and completely out of touch, and Steve had started to wonder whether he'd ever be back at all. 

Tony barked, "Cap, is that the god of muscles over there with you or do we have some new problem?"

"It's Thor," Steve said. He flashed Thor a grateful smile. 

"I put on my fancy duds for nothing," Tony said, sounding more than a little grumpy. 

Thor lifted his hammer; lightning streamed down from the sky like water. Steve crouched behind the shield, all the hair on his arms rising as lightning decimated the last four dozen or so robots near Steve, popping rivets and steel. The whole street smelled like an oven left on too long. Thor shot up in the sky, directing lightning west, toward Nat. 

Steve lowered the shield, surveyed the neutralized bots, and turned to run back toward Natasha's position. 

"Steve, the robots are all deactivated here, do you copy?" Natasha's voice, slurring her words a little; the weight of exhaustion was pulling her down, too. 

He stopped like his own power had been cut, and sat down between one step and the next, just pulled up a piece of curb and melted down onto it. "I copy. Maybe one of the ones Thor hit was controlling the others, or something."

"Very good, Rogers, you have learned something from me after all, though I could have sworn you were too busy giving orders over me at all times when I'm speaking, but there it is, ladies and gentlemen, the evidence that Cap pays attention."

"Can it, Tony," Steve said, with more feeling than he meant to put behind it. 

"You're welcome," Tony said, before cutting off comms with a screech. 

"Natasha, you all right?" Steve asked. 

"Fine. You?"

"I'm good," Steve said, pressing a hand to his ribs. 

"Is it just me, or does Tony think he solved something here?" Clint asked on comms. 

"Shh, don't tell him it was Thor, let him feel useful for another ten seconds or so," Natasha said. "You know he likes putting on the armor once in a while." 

"It was a team effort all the way around. Probably a little of both of them," Steve said. "Good job, all. Get yourselves back to the rally point. Let's head home." 

A moment later, Thor landed in the street in front of Steve, crushing one of the robots as he did so. Sparks shot out around his boots, provoking a smile from Steve. "Very dramatic," he said, as Thor approached. 

"You are injured," Thor said, frowning. 

"No more than usual." Steve pushed up from the curb, changed his mind, and eased back down again. "Another five and I'll be good to go." He squinted up at Thor. "I thought you were on Asgard."

"I was. Heimdall informed me there was conflict here, with you at its center. It is still my privilege to assist with avenging."

"From time to time," Steve said, smiling a little. 

Thor looked him over, his frown lingering. "I will take you home." 

"Debriefing -"

"Can wait. The others are more than capable of handling this in your absence." Thor reached out a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Steve took it, and let Thor pull him effortlessly to his feet. 

"Natasha, I'm hitching a ride with Thor," Steve said. 

"Kinky," she responded, and Steve barely had a moment to roll his eyes before Thor's arm settled firmly around his waist and they were airborne. 

They thumped down on the roof of the Avengers HQ seconds later, not Steve's new digs in Brooklyn, and he rallied the strength to move away from Thor's warmth. "This isn't exactly home," he said, swaying on his feet. 

"You need to have your injuries seen to," Thor said. "You will ignore them otherwise." 

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but there was nothing to argue with; Thor was right, and Steve was very, very tired. So with a shrug, he followed Thor into the building, and to medical. Thor clapped him on the shoulder and left him in the doorway, headed off toward team quarters. 

Dr. Carlysle helped him peel out of his uniform top, and hissed behind her teeth when she saw his torso. He already knew; he could feel the bruises, even without looking down. He'd grown so accustomed to this feeling after a fight, the bone-deep aching radiating through his body, the tingling everywhere as the overworked serum tried to set things right again. He had forgotten to be surprised at how it seemed to others. "A day at most, it'll be good," he said, telling her what she already knew. She'd been the team's backup physician for months now. 

She lifted his hand and examined the deep, oozing gash there. "Then let's deal with what we can correct."

"No need to dress it -- that'll close up, soon, it'll just hurt like the devil while it does," he said, smiling at her as though they were conspirators in his catalog of hurts. 

Her head shot up and she frowned. "Just because you heal quickly, do you think that means you have to suffer discomfort in the meantime?" she asked. 

"...no?" Steve answered, because the look on her face clearly told him there was only one right answer. 

"Always come and see me," she said, flattening his hand under the dermal regenerator while she readied a couple of super-dose painkiller shots. 

Steve watched as new skin formed over his bones, wondering if the serum could tell the difference between original Steve, and newly minted Steve. It hadn't been that long since it had all changed anyway. Or maybe it had; Steve was never sure whether to count the decades he'd slept through, or just the few years that he could perceive. It seemed like cheating to pretend time had stood still for him, when the world had fallen apart and reformed itself over and over again. Why should he be any different? 

"Good enough, " Dr. Carlysle said eventually, switching off the machine. "You should settle in for a half hour for some IV hydration. I don't like the bruise patterns on your skin."

"Plenty of sports drinks upstairs," he said, mustering up a smile for her. "But thanks, doc." 

"Steve," she said, and then she stopped. She handed him his damaged uniform. "Just make sure you get some rest."

"Will do." He eased himself off the table, and stretched - his lower back was killing him in ways that reminded him uncomfortably of his childhood. Then he made his way upstairs to his unlocked quarters, which was probably symbolic in some way he was too tired to process. 

He turned the shower up as hot as it would go, shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. And stood there, until the water ran clear and the bar of soap had nearly melted away to nothing in his hand, until the stiffness in his neck and shoulders had faded to a dull roar underneath his purpled skin. His ribs were already healed, or near as; the new painkillers were definitely helping. Bless Bruce and his tinkering. 

When he'd toweled off, he changed into a soft blue T-shirt and black sweatpants, and emerged with wet hair to find Thor leaning against the small kitchenette counter in his quarters. Even dressed down in a grey Henley and black trousers, Thor was the only thing worth looking at in the tiny apartment, so Steve let himself look. Thor rewarded his attention with a tiny smile of acknowledgement. 

Thor glanced at his hand, then at his torso, as though he could see all Steve's damage through the shirt. "I've brought mead," Thor said, pointing to the glittering bottle on the coffee table, "and you will have some." 

"Oh, will I?" Steve said with a grin, which Thor matched. He imagined maybe Thor had a whole stash of Asgardian booze and treats tucked away somewhere in HQ, or maybe Heimdall was the broker in his supply chain. Either way, Steve was grateful. He retrieved two glasses and handed them to Thor, who took them to the table. For himself, he snagged a loaf of bread, a knife, and some peanut butter. 

Mjolnir was tucked discreetly against the leg of the couch, and Steve carefully stepped around it, because he didn't need to add a broken toe to his tally of injuries for the day. 

"Your fondness for those sticky sandwiches remains a mystery to me," Thor said, topping off both glasses with the golden liquid. 

"Quick carbs and protein," Steve said, as he folded a slice of bread in half around a generous dollop of peanut butter and stuffed it in his mouth. No point in explaining how awesome it still was to eat all the peanut butter he could hold without fear of hives and a closed airway. He chewed for a few moments, then washed it down with some of the mead, which he knew from experience would burn his throat pleasantly. Asgardian mead was more like beer had been for him once upon a time; good for a buzz, but not to get wasted, like Asgardian ale might accomplish. He was glad Thor understood the difference. 

He held his glass out to Thor, who refilled it, and they clinked glasses. Steve slathered peanut butter on another slice. "So you make a habit of keeping an eye on us while you're gone?"

"Not at all. You are all capable of handling situations without my interference."

"But you said you came to help because we were in the middle of-"

"I said _you_ were in the middle of it." Thor took a long swig of mead and settled back on the couch cushions, his posture open, watching Steve. "It seems to me, from time to time, that you take unnecessary risks. Today Heimdall did not like the look of your combat techniques. Nor did I." 

Steve finished the sandwich he was chewing and twisted the package of bread closed. He could feel Thor's gaze on him, the quiet expectation of an answer, as he licked the last of the peanut butter from the knife. What to say, though...that was tricky. Sometimes he did take chances. He was a good tactician, and an adequate strategist, but there were times it was just easier to bulldoze his way through to a quick outcome. And then there were days like today, when he pushed and shoved and crushed, and it never seemed to be enough. Not enough to win the battle; not enough to satisfy the burning rage inside him that never quite died out. 

Sometimes he thought he'd banked it down, closed it off well enough that no one could see it burning. But Thor was looking at him now like Steve's anger, and all the carelessness it could cause, were living things in the room with them, visible for all to see. 

"I've been a soldier for a long time, and I've fought some hellish battles," Steve said finally. "I haven't seen the kind of action you've seen, obviously, but I do know what I'm doing. Compared to some of the things I saw in the war, this was a good day. I don't need anyone to keep an eye on me."

"Perhaps not." Thor's gaze had its own weight, and Steve was sinking under it. "Nevertheless, I will continue to do so." 

"Natasha probably could have used your help," Steve said. He didn't mean for it to be a rebuke, just a fact. Despite her formidable skills, Natasha was all too human, and therefore fragile. Steve never treated her that way, never thought of her that way during battle. But he'd carried her unconscious off more than one battlefield, and had held her as she bled. He knew how thin the line was between victory and death, for her and Clint and Sam most of all. And for Tony, whose heart had once been run by a machine; Steve reminded himself of that every day when he was close to losing his temper. 

"It is not that I lack concern for the others, but the Widow's instincts for self-preservation seem much more sharply honed than your own." Thor paused. "Do you think I have been unobservant in battle? I have seen what you sacrifice, and are willing to sacrifice, for victory."

"How are you any different?" Steve asked, and there was the edge of it, that anger creeping up through his skin, like the darkening bruises. 

"Because I am as close to immortal as a being can become. You are not," Thor said. Steve knew he was thinking of Steve in the hospital, after the helicarriers; he'd been slowed to a halt in ways none of them had really thought he could be. It had been a slow recovery; Steve had seen the worry in all their eyes. He'd grown accustomed to thinking of himself as a man who couldn't die, but to someone like Thor, Steve could see now he believed that to be wishful thinking. "Without considering what you might lose, you throw yourself into danger, like a sword or a spear," Thor said quietly.

"Isn't that what I am?" Steve asked. He looked down into his glass, then drained it and set it on the table, so softly; it would be too easy to break it without thinking. "It's what I was made to be." He stood, and moved to the reinforced windows, which looked out on endless views of trees and grass. No matter how long he looked at those trees, they wouldn't transform themselves into the familiar streets of Brooklyn, and he wouldn't see Bucky strolling up the alley, whistling a tuneless hello. 

A pang of loneliness struck him, so strong he was surprised his knees didn't buckle, and he pressed his fingertips to the glass. He had wanted so much from life; that had been long ago, and now he was bone-tired. 

Thor sighed. "I know it is useless to tell you not to think of yourself as a weapon. But if you must, then consider this: on my world, the finest weapons are cared for, are cherished and adored."

Steve glanced back at Mjolnir, and had a flash of its weight in his hands, the power he had sensed from it, and the gentle acceptance of his touch. He turned his face away. 

Thor rose from the couch and came to stand beside Steve, radiating strength and warmth into the cold darkness. Giving Steve every opportunity to decline, he moved into Steve's space, pressing him back against the window and the useless landscape outside it. He pressed his face close to Steve's, and Steve closed his eyes. 

"You suffer from lack of care," Thor said softly. "We who cherish these weapons are worthy to touch them because they deem us so," he added, his fingers circling Steve's wrists in a loose grip. "And to those who understand this, even the mightiest hammer or the strongest blade is much, much more than a weapon." 

Steve's face grew very hot. Thor pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, mouthing at the hot flush spreading down Steve's body, beneath Thor's lips. 

It had been a long time since Steve had felt he could be free with his desire. Since Peggy, and a goodbye kiss that ended what was never meant to be. 

Since Bucky, and the shattering of everything Steve had ever loved. 

Tears pricked at the corners of Steve's eyes, and he turned to nuzzle at the long, muscled column of Thor's neck. Thor caught Steve's face between his hands -- so much sure tenderness in the touch that Steve shivered -- and captured Steve's mouth in a deep, slow kiss. 

Steve had a moment of quiet panic. Once in a while Steve had fantasized they could fuck, quick and dirty, that they could have a moment of pleasure together. He'd turned away from that, unsure of how to make it reality, and then exhausted by the probable consequences. Too complicated. Maybe not complicated enough. But now it was on offer, and Steve couldn't have refused it, didn't want to. All he wanted was for Thor to touch him. 

Thor slipped Steve's shirt from his body, lifted Steve and held him against the window effortlessly, grinning when Steve gasped. It had been years since he'd been outmatched in strength; he'd nearly forgotten what it was like. Back then, he'd hated the idea of being the smaller, weaker one. What had once made him furious now made him frenzied, and he tore at Thor's shirt with determination, provoking a laugh from his friend. "I too do not wish to wait," Thor said, and bore him down on the ground, into the soft utilitarian carpet Steve loved to sink his feet into. It was scratchy against his bare skin as Thor yanked his sweatpants off and then leaned back, considering him. 

"Really?" Steve asked, arching an eyebrow. Thor cocked his head to one side and kept right on looking - down the smooth lines of Steve's torso to where his hard cock nestled against his abdomen, twitching under Thor's regard. 

Thor stood over him and kicked off his own black trousers, and Steve caught his breath. He'd never seen Thor nude before, and had failed to appreciate how beautifully he was made - every part of him. 

"I have changed my mind," Thor said, reaching down a hand for him. Steve took it, and Thor pulled him to his feet, wrapping a solid arm around Steve's waist. "For what I wish to do, we will need a softer surface." 

Something in Steve gave way, then, the last resisting part of his mind, and later he barely remembered Thor half pulling, half-carrying him to the bedroom. It seemed to him he had never wanted anything quite so much, or maybe he was just out of practice at wanting altogether. 

Thor spread him out on the bed, and pressed his arms into the mattress, over his head. "Remain still," he said, eyes dark, and Steve chuckled. 

"It's hard not to be in command, isn't it?" he asked. 

"You tell me," Thor said, provoking the second shudder of the night from Steve, who squeezed his eyes shut as Thor put his hands on Steve's body and traced the muscles of his chest, his thighs, his ass. He followed every touch with a kiss, pausing every so often to rise up over Steve and kiss him thoroughly, his hot, wet mouth so slow and thorough. Steve forgot to be still, and slid his hands down Thor's back, liking the way Thor made low, approving noises deep in his throat. 

When Thor took Steve's cock in his mouth, Steve pressed his heels to Thor's back, biting his lip to keep silent. Thor glanced up, and with one hand, pressed his fingers to Steve's mouth, urging his lips to part, to allow sound through the barrier of his silence. His fingertips dipped inside Steve's mouth, brushing against his tongue, and with a soft cry, Steve came, back arched into the delicious, sudden rush of pleasure. 

"You do not follow orders as well as you give them," Thor said, kissing him back into reality as his slick fingers slid inside Steve. 

"You just now figured this out about me?" Steve laughed, and Thor grinned into the kiss, as Thor parted his thighs and covered Steve's body with his own. 

"You must say something, if I hurt you in any way," Thor said. 

"I wish you'd just- _oh_ ," Steve said, losing whatever cranky response he'd planned to make as Thor slid inside him. Because this was the opposite of hurt; this was a pleasure-pain he'd stopped thinking about after Bucky fell, the deep connection he'd learned never to crave, for the sake of reputation and career and in service to the greater good, but they were in the future now, and Thor cared nothing at all for Earth norms. He moved inside Steve with the kind of grace and power that made Steve press him closer, gasping with each thrust. 

His cock was interested again, and Thor's big hand closed around it, wringing a second orgasm from Steve in a matter of moments, so shocking and intense that Steve's eyes rolled back in his head, and all thought left him. There was just sensation - Thor's body, Thor's hands, Thor's mouth on his, drowning out everything but the two of them in bed, together, and their mutual pleasure. 

Thor's climax was as sudden as Steve's, and when Steve's hand curled around the nape of his neck, Thor broke the piece of bedframe he'd been using for leverage, and breathed, "Steve." It was almost enough to send Steve over the edge again. 

They lay together in the messy sheets, Thor's hand casually resting on Steve's belly, an intimate point of connection. 

"It's been a long time since anyone has called me out for taking chances," Steve said. He shifted in the bed, pushing aside the tangled sheets with his toes. 

"Perhaps the others think you are still hard of hearing, instead of as stubborn as a four-horned skoffin," Thor said. Steve snorted a laugh and turned on his side; Thor mirrored the action, so they faced each other, and rested his hand on Steve's hip. It was nice to be with someone after a battle for a change. To not be alone, and hurting, and full of regrets that wouldn't quiet down. 

"Everyone needs someone who reminds them not to be a dumbass." 

"I am heartened to hear you speak so. I will be sure to do so on a regular basis." They both smiled. It was a team of equals, but Steve had never forgotten the centuries of warfare Thor didn't speak of, or the fact his battle prowess far exceeded Steve's own. Leadership of such a man was a privilege, granted on a provisional basis. Thor's concern for him was part and parcel of that privilege. 

Rain began to patter gently against the window. Rivulets of water cascaded down the glass, obscuring the woods beyond. Thor regarded Steve for a long moment as thunder rumbled in the distance, then said, "I know you can wield Mjolnir." 

Steve's flinch was involuntary, and Thor's hand tightened on his hip. He'd been so careful not to betray it that night at the party, before Ultron, when he'd made such a show of trying with the rest of the team. But he'd felt it give way so easily, and it would have been the simplest thing in the world to lift it up. 

"Why did you hide the truth that day?" Thor asked, tracing Steve's cheekbones with his thumb. 

"Same reason you don't use my shield, I guess. Because it's not my place to wield it," Steve said. He didn't add that deep down, he'd been sure it was all some kind of crazy fluke. 

"When one is worthy," Thor said, "one is worthy, and that is an end to it." He leaned forward and took another kiss, then slid his body nearer until they were touching, shoulder to toes. 

"Wouldn't know what to do with all that thunder," Steve said, kissing Thor's shoulder. "All the clouds and stuff. Lightning." 

"If the time ever comes, Mjolnir will show you the way, and I will be glad of it." 

Steve had nothing to say to that; he didn't want to consider a scenario where Thor would not be there in time of true need. Instead he closed his eyes and listened to the rain. Thor made no move to clear it away.


End file.
